100 Themes: Alan and Eric
by serenika
Summary: 100 drabbles, not in chronological order. No porn here, folks. (I'll make another for that.) I'll post a new chapter for every review or something. I dunno. More practice than anything else.
1. Introduction

His new junior stood before him, not a thing like he'd expected. The man was short - probably the shortest in the office, even taking into account Grell's ridiculous heels - and seemed very shy for one who was expected to bring death on a daily basis. He also wasn't wearing the customary black tie, but a silver bolo in the shape of a skull. Bit of an oddity, Eric thought.

For the first time since he'd stepped into the Scotsman's office, the brunette met his eye, clearing his throat. "My name is Alan Humphries, sir," he said quietly, looking unsure. By his attitude, Eric clearly wasn't quite what this boy had been expecting either. Nearly shoulder length blonde hair pulled into black cornrows on one side and blatant disregard for the office's uniform policy certainly didn't look professional; professionalism wasn't Eric's cup of tea anyway. He preferred something a bit stronger.

"Eric Slingby, but just Eric'll do," the blonde replied, grinning and winking rather than the usual handshake of greeting. He did the petite brunette - who was uncomfortably shifting from foot to foot - the courtesy of toning down his Scottish accent, which could be hard to understand if one wasn't used to it. Eric continued, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "And if you'd like, we could skip out early and I'll introduce y'to everyone else. I know what it's like bein' the newest one here. Although," he added with a chuckle, "I've never had the experience of bein' the shortest."

To his surprise, Alan's brow furrowed. "I think," he started, tone disapproving but not insubordinate, "I'd prefer to carry out my first day according to the rules of the office. And please don't call me short, Senior." With that, he circled around the desk that had been prepared for him and sat primly in the chair, immediately pulling out an agenda and writing down their tasks for the day.

Eric, once he'd stopped being dumbstruck, let out a snort of laughter. This promised to be an interesting partnership indeed.


	2. Complicated

Complicated. Not a word Eric used often, as he tried to avoid thinking too much whenever he could. But this situation was as unavoidable as it was complex.

Normally, his prey of choice were women. He wasn't opposed to men, not by a long shot, but the fairer sex was where his preference lay. Curvy, funny, often blonde. His new interest was none of these things. Alan was slender bordering on skinny, and his humour was dry on the rare occasion that it emerged. He was not particularly flirty or outgoing. He liked books. And plants. That was just about all Eric knew about him, to be honest. He wasn't even blonde.

There certainly weren't any _rules_ against relationships with one's partner. It was discouraged, naturally, for the likelihood of a messy separation affecting work habits. But it wasn't uncommon. And it was looking more and more appealing every time Alan gave Eric that sweet little smile.

The blonde sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair and chancing one more glimpse at the man sitting across from him. Alan glanced up at the noise, shooting a disapproving look at Eric - a habit the junior had picked up from William, as Eric was so often caught not working. Even then he was adorable. Caught red-handed, the older of the two just grinned back, winking before looking down at his work again. Yes. The whole situation was entirely too complicated.

* * *

So, uh, I have a few of these written. Maybe I'll post one for each review I get. Because I'm terrible and like attention.

And...if anyone wants me to continue any of 'em longer than the 200-some words then I can do my best...!


	3. Making History

"Oh, bollocks." Excellent. Eric was still laughing at him. Scowling, Alan swung his scythe upwards with a little more vigour than he had intended and cut cleanly into the human's chest, toppling her over backwards. Too late. As he watched, the offending strand of Cinematic Record fluttered before his eyes and he saw the replay of himself tripping over his own bloody feet as they pursued the victim, Eric bent double in the background. Just brilliant. Now his clumsiness could be immortalized in the Reaper Library for the rest of time. And all he could do was pout on the ground like a child.

Eric was in hysterics. "C'mon, Al," he snickered, collecting the Record and marking the reap off on the 'To Die' list before offering his partner a gloved hand for Alan to pull himself up. The brunette accepted with a huff, busying himself with brushing the dust from his knees and not making eye contact. Unhelpfully, Eric added, "It's not every Junior that makes their way into history on their first reap, y'know."

* * *

Wanted to post this early because I like it and I know I won't get much writing time when school starts up again.


	4. Rivalry

It went without saying that girls loved Eric. Everyone loved Eric. He was tall, charismatic, handsome, and generous in every possible way. Including, according to Grell, his...proportions.

So it was no surprise that Alan didn't go a day without seeing his senior get flirted with, kissed, even felt up in the hallways and offices of the Reaper Dispatch. It didn't really bother him so long as it didn't interfere with the day's paperwork. He didn't really mind doing Eric's leftover work; Alan was a dutiful worker and often completed things more quickly than his senior anyway. His attention span and patience were some of the few things that outmatched Eric's.

Alan didn't mind the girls giving Eric attention, really. The part that he minded was how it made the man smile, and how he couldn't fathom how to make that smile appear for himself.


	5. Unbreakable

The room was colder than it ought to be. Eric made a mental note to confront the medical staff.

Alan was huddled up in the hospital bed, knees drawn up to his chest, looking almost...apprehensive. The blond didn't know what he could possibly be scared of. It was only the two of them in the room, after all. He'd been called down to see Alan after the younger man had collapsed out in the field and there was apparently some concern about his condition. His junior did look a bit peaky, but Eric couldn't see any wounds or anything. He didn't know why everyone was so worried.

It really was very cold.

The brunette didn't look at him. They'd been sat there in silence for nearly five minutes now, since Eric's initial greeting. He had no idea what could have perturbed Alan this much. He'd faced demons and all sorts of complications before. Maybe he was ill? But that was impossible. Reapers couldn't get really ill. That's what 'immortality' was all about. They were untouchable, invincible.

"It's called the Thorns of Death."

And all at once, Eric learned that he wasn't.


	6. Obsession

"Eric? You're staring at me again."

Eric gave a start. "No m'not. I'm thinkin'." _Nice save, Slingby._ He sat up and returned to his paperwork, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the pages. And not on Alan's lips. Where he had certainly not been staring moments before.

It wasn't like it was his fault. It just wasn't fair. The little brunette had a bad habit of biting his lower lip when he filled out forms. Sometimes, he stuck his tongue out in concentration, turning pink from embarrassment when he realized what he'd been doing. Just a moment ago, he'd been pursing his lips in concentration, making Eric want to lean forward over the desk and catch those lips in a… and he was staring again.

Alan's eyes narrowed. "Just thinking, were you? Good work. It didn't even look like it hurt," he remarked, corners of his lips - where Eric was resolutely _not_ looking - twitching up into a good natured smile. The blonde retaliated by reaching over and ruffling his junior's hair, earning a scowl that was nearly a pout by the time Alan turned back to his work.

Not that he was staring. Really.

* * *

Thanks to Apricot5 for leaving 8 million reviews and making me want to update this again, pfft.


	7. Eternity

Sometimes it felt odd to stare into the night sky, Eric thought. Odd because he had seen it change over the hundreds of years of his life, and knew that he'd see it change even more in the hundreds to follow. Odd because it was a reflection of his own existence: eternal, and ever expanding. His own life was always growing to let more into it. More people, more experiences. It appeared as though it would never run out of space, and on only one occasion had it seemed to shrink down to encompass only one being, one objective.

"Eric?"

At the soft question, Eric turned his head with a smile to look at the man laying next to him, looking curious behind his thinly-rimmed glasses, and eternity felt like a blessing again.

* * *

I hate this one. I might redo it.


	8. Gateway

The gate at the end of the garden had been creaky since Alan had moved into the little cottage, since just after he left the academy. He said it lent character to the place, though it was hardly lacking: there were little pictures from Grell's camera or various watercolours from talented mortals on each wall, and differently sized flowerpots - for the buds that were too small to yet be planted outside - occupying nearly every flat surface. It was charming, Eric thought. A portal to another little world.

He'd offered to fix the squeaky gate, but Alan refused each time. It let him know when he had a visitor, the brunette had protested, and so every time Eric came over, the gate would announce his presence and Alan would be waiting happily next to the door. Once or twice, he'd caught the petite reaper working in the garden, and he'd be so concentrated on the plants and the earth that he wouldn't've heard the gate creak. Eric took advantage of these occasions to gather Alan into his arms from behind and surprise him with soft kisses, making the smaller man gasp and start to laugh.

It was their world, that little cottage with the garden. The place where they baked together and listened to the rain and cuddled in front of the fire. Nothing worried them, there. To Eric, there was nothing better than coming through the noisy gate after a long day and being greeted with one of Alan's smiles.

* * *

Did someone say mush?


	9. Death

"Eric?"

"Mm?"

"D'you ever think much about where we come from?"

"...'course not. We're just here. We eat and sleep and work overtime forever."

"Oh...alright."

"...how come?"

"If you think about it, we _are_ death. I mean...our kind must've been around since...always. And you'll always be here. And Grell, and Ronald, and the others. But...I won't."

"...where's this goin'?"

"There must be some sort of plan in place, you know. To make things this way. There must be a plan for each of us. And that's where I got lucky."

"Lucky?"

"Well, it isn't really-"

"C'mon, now I'm curious."

"It's silly."

"Now m'more curious."

"Eric!"

"Alan."

"...just wondering, really..."

"Wonderin' what?"

"If it was was meant to be like this. If this was the universe's apology; getting to be here with you."

"..."

"I think it must be."

"..."

"...Eric?"

"And...what if it's not? What if I've stolen a better destiny from you?"

"I couldn't imagine a better one."

"...!"

"...pfft."

"..."

"Eric, you've gone pink."

"Shush. Haven't."

"Yes, you have."

"Go t'sleep, Al."

"...goodnight, Eric."

"I love you."

"...!"

"Heh. Now who's pink?"

"Sh-shut up."

"Goodnight, Alan."

"...I love you too, Eric."

* * *

So this...barely fits the theme. But I didn't wanna write a sad one.


	10. Opportunities

Something that Eric could never begrudge England for was the weather. Having been a mortal in Scotland, the grey skies and rain were more comforting than irritating. As long as he wasn't caught in a surprise downpour or anything.

The others in the office didn't like the rain much. Grell whined about her hair, Ronald complained endlessly about his lawnmower rusting, and William glared out the window as if blaming the weather personally for his incessant foul mood. Alan was the exception. Whenever the rain started up, he'd step outside and breathe in the fresh smell, murmuring about how he wouldn't need to water the garden that day.

One of his little forays outside coincided with Eric's smoke break, on a particularly stormy day. It wasn't windy, thank goodness, but the sky opened up as if it was the second global flood - Eric had been joking all day about building an ark. He watched over the tip of his glowing cigarette as Alan raised his umbrella and stepped out into the shower, grinning, unaware he was being watched. On an impulse, Eric followed under his own umbrella, putting a hand on Alan's shoulder and making him jump.

"Nice out, innit?" the blonde started, smiling down at his startled junior.

"W-well," Alan replied, returning the smile as he realized who it was, "The flowers like the rain. I do as well, I suppose. It just...rejuvenates everything." He took off one glove and held a hand out from under the umbrella, letting the water run over his fingers and looking contemplative.

Eric watched, always mystified by Alan's strange habits. Out of nowhere, he blurted, "Ever been kissed in the rain?"

Turning back to him and looking confused, the brunette hesitantly answered, "...No, actually."

So Eric did.

* * *

I enjoyed writing this one. Made it a little longer for Apricot5, who seems to be my biggest fan. ^^;

Also, damla22.02: "can you write some sad ones too? Please :D" ...Ask and you shall receive. You just wrote my next prompt for me.


	11. 33 Percent

"'Scuse me, lass, d'you have a moment?" Eric asked, tapping the woman on the shoulder. She turned, looking curious, and he gave her a guilty smile.

Politely, she replied, "Yes, sir? Is there something I could help you with?"

He scratched the back of his head bashfully, grimacing. "I hate t'bother you," he started, "But could y'come with me a moment? I'm tryin' t'pick out an engagement ring for m'sweetheart, and I could use a lady's opinion." Adding a hopeful grin, he finished, "It's goin' to be her birthday next week, y'know, and I really want it special."

Hook, line, and sinker. The woman clasped her hands together in glee and excitedly answered, "Of course! Oh, that's terribly romantic. I'd be happy to help, sir." Eric's face lit up and he motioned for her to follow, which she did quite eagerly.

"Just down here," he instructed, leading her down a side street. The moment they were both out of sight of the street, he turned, picking up his scythe that had been leaning against the wall and drawing it across her chest. She slumped to the ground, her mouth opening in surprise, but had no time to make any noise.

His fake smile disappeared at once. Face impassive, he moved the body to the side of the alley, not bothering to hide it - he wouldn't be there much longer anyway. Pulling a small notebook from his pocket as he walked away, he found the correct page and went to cross out the previous number, but paused. This woman's soul would be his 333rd out of 1000; he was a third of the way there. A third of the way to saving Alan.

Feelings conflicted between disgust and accomplishment within him, and he carried on his way just in time for the first screams to be heard from those finding the body.


	12. Dead Wrong

"It's called the Thorns of Death."

Eric felt like he'd been hit over the head with Grell's deathscythe. "...The what?"

"Thorns of Death." Alan said softly, not meeting Eric's eyes. He'd never looked so small. "I'm going to die, Eric. There's no cure."

This was probably how it felt to swallow liquid nitrogen. "But...we're immortal," the blonde protested weakly, not wanting to believe it. "Y'can't die. That's ridiculous."

"But I'm going to," the younger countered, finally turning his eyes to Eric, who felt all the worse for seeing the tears there. He said nothing else, only took a deep breath, but his hands were white-knuckled fists in the blankets of the hospital bed. How Alan was handling his own inevitable end better than his partner could was a mystery, but the brunette managed a tight, serene smile.

Meanwhile, Eric was shaking. It had been certain - something he'd always taken for granted - that Alan would always be there. He'd never lost someone before. He'd never had to deal with death outside the mortal realm. This was...wrong.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. The inevitability of Alan's death was as certain as any of the other deaths on his list.

Unless...

* * *

Aaaand we all know where it goes from there. This is sortof a continuation from 'unbreakable'. Hey, y'all wanted sad!

Also, it's my 18th birthday today. ^^


	13. Running Away

It was dark. Eric could tell that much. The streets of London were lit by the moon and the streetlights, and they ran between the dim circles of illuminated cobblestone as though their lives depended on it. Which, in fact, they did. Rain fell lightly, but it made little difference. The chill of desperation was worse.

They had nothing. Escaping from the Dispatch and demon alike, with even their glasses gone, everything had been lost. The only things left to them were their scythes and each other, and nearly one thousand souls. And the thorns. Alan's curse stayed with him, even as they ran, making him gasp for breath and stumble, slowing them and dooming them.

Eric skidded to a stop once again as his partner collapsed to his knees, choking on the vines wrapped around his throat. "I-I'm fine, I'll be alright," Alan was saying, even as he knelt, panting, on the wet street. Even now, in their darkest hour, his eyes were bright as he turned them up to Eric, and he managed a soft smile.

Even with nothing, Eric thought, he still had everything to lose.

* * *

I'm so thankful for all the reads and reviews. Gosh...! I wasn't expecting this to get any attention at all.


	14. Judgment

It hit him one day as he watched Alan judging their victim's soul, deciding where it would end up after death. Eric stopped in his tracks, the question occuring to him seemingly out of nowhere._ If Alan watched my record, where would my afterlife be?_ Assuming that reapers experienced anything at all after their existence, where would he go?

It was an easy answer. That little book of tallies - each one marking an innocent soul that he had collected - lay heavy in his jacket pocket, enough to doom him beyond any hope of redemption.

_Hang on a tick, though_, Eric found himself arguing within his own head, _I have pure motives. Wouldn't that count for a thing?_

Certainly not, he knew. His soul was tarnished beyond repair. He couldn't stop what he had become, even if he'd wanted to.

"Eric?" Alan's curious voice pulled him from his musings, and he looked up, brows furrowed. The brunette smiled at him, teasing, "Is my senior not focused on the reap? What a bad influence." The corners of Eric's lips twitched upwards, and he pulled Alan in to ruffle his hair.

_No matter how I'm judged, it'll be worth it if he lives._


	15. Seeking Solace

If he was asked to pick the most difficult part of his disease, Alan would say that experiencing his attacks along was the worst. Even worse than knowing his time was limited - he had made peace with his own death years ago - or having to let his friends know that his immortality had been revoked. Feeling the creeping Thorns start constricting when there was no one nearby to support him was indescribable. Though having to be lifted back into his chair by Mr. Spears or being fussed over by Grell was embarrassing, being alone for the attack was worse.

For it was in solitude that his unique existence seemed the loneliest.

Alan especially hated it when the attack happened while he was at the office. But, unfortunately, it was inevitable. So when he felt the beginnings of one on a blustery Wednesday in the middle of February, his first thought was _Good lord, not again._ His next thought was pain.

There was not a thing he could do. All he was capable of was clinging to the leg of the desk as he slid to the floor, gasping and clutching at his chest as though to steady the turmoil within it. His only hope was to ride out the attack and then, after it was finally over, somehow find the way to carry on as though he wasn't dying with each moment.

Dimly, as though from underwater, Alan heard a voice. "Breathe, Al. Don't worry. I've got y'right here. It'll be fine. Just hold on." He noticed that he wasn't quite as cold, and he had a grip on a soft hand rather than the wooden desk. The pain wasn't quite as bad as it had been. In between gasps for breath, someone was tenderly stroking his hair. _Eric._

His attacks weren't easily made more comfortable, but Alan was hard pressed to find a place he'd rather be than in Eric's arms.

* * *

What's 'fitting the theme'?


	16. Excuses

"M'goin' for a walk." The man was standing with his hand on the doorknob. His tone was relaxed, but his muscles were as tense as if he was prepared to draw his scythe at any second. Behind him, Alan was shaking, arms wrapped tightly around himself, jaw set.

"You know I don't believe that for a second." Alan's words were colder than the wintry night outside. Still turned away, Eric shut his eyes, gritting his teeth so hard it hurt; anything to to keep himself from saying what he couldn't.

_It's for you, Alan. All for you. I need to collect the souls. I know you'll hate me for it, but I can't let you die. I can't lose you. I need you. __I love you._

Instead, he scoffed, still not meeting Alan's eyes. "S'just a walk, Al. I need some fresh air after bein' cooped up in th'office all day," Eric murmured, feeling the book full of tallymarks - each one a dark spot on his existence - like an anvil in his pocket, crushing him under the weight. The burden of it may kill him yet, but he'd fill that book one hundred times over if it meant keeping his partner alive.

Whether Alan hated him for it or not.

"...Well, I'm not about to stop you. Go see her." An eerily correct statement, though not in the way Alan meant. His lips trembled on his next words. "Not much I can bloody do about it, clearly."

Eric shut the door behind him just as he heard Alan let out the first sob.

* * *

Sorry it's been ages, I'm terribly sick at the moment...


	17. Vengeance

"What...what on earth does this mean?" Alan whispered, wide-eyed and disbelieving. But he wasn't looking at Eric.

He was looking at a small black book, with pages and pages full of small black tally marks, each one representing a small black stain on Eric's conscience. All Eric could do was look helpless as he watched Alan put the pieces together and raise a shaking hand to cover his open mouth, tears appearing in the brunette's frozen eyes.

"You're actually doing it. The thousand souls. ...How _could_ you, Eric? _Why_?" There wasn't a moment when Alan's voice grew above a murmur. He was never one to shout. And suddenly, _to keep you safe_ didn't seem like a big enough reason. For Alan would never have wanted this. Eric just wanted Alan.

If he was honest, Eric was doing this for himself. And fittingly enough, the universe had decided to take revenge on him for his sins by making Alan see what he'd corrupted their very existences for.

He didn't hear the door shutting behind him, but simply sank onto the bed, knowing that he'd destroyed the thing he'd wanted so badly to save.


	18. Love

"You're th'greatest, Al," Eric grinned, ruffling the brunette's hair. Alan just smiled back, watching as Eric stood to leave and go file some paperwork. The blonde did always tend to exaggerate: all Alan had done was to bring him a cup of coffee from the breakroom. But then, it was in Eric's nature to be friendly. It was why everyone liked him so much.

* * *

"Bloody hell, Alan. Dunno what I'd do without you." The blonde beamed at him, shooting him a wink before setting out on a solo reap. Alan sat for a moment, not moving, pink in the cheeks. But not for long: there was work to be done, and not much time to do it. He turned back to his work, the blush fading, though his thoughts didn't.

* * *

Alan was standing in the breakroom brewing tea when, completely unawares, the brunette found himself caught from behind in a tight hug. "Missed y'at the party last night!" said an exuberant voice in his ear, a goatee scratching lightly at his neck. "S'always more fun with m'favourite coworker there." Alan felt the warm breath against his neck, making him shiver, and Eric pulled away, clapping him on the back as he walked off to talk to Ronald Knox, who was nearby. All Alan could do was stand there for a moment, wondering what on earth Eric Slingby had managed to do to him.

* * *

It had been a 14 hour shift. It was only due to Alan's diligence that it hadn't been longer. Both of the men were half asleep, slumped over the dwindling stack of reports, halfway braindead. From the other desk in the office, Alan heard Eric sigh. "Y'know, Alan, I adore you. S'thanks t'you we've not been at this twice as long," the blonde huffed, stretching over the back of his chair lazily before returning to his work. Alan, however, sat unmoving, pen still touching the paper, ink spreading in an untidy blotch. He didn't care much. He'd just worked something out that had been a long time coming to him. It wasn't a comforting conclusion. But, looking over at his partner, the brunette finally admitted it to himself.

_Oh, bollocks. I'm in love with Eric Slingby._

* * *

I'm all better! Here's a cheesy one to celebrate. I won't be able to update for a while - busy week coming up - but stick around~


	19. Tears

"I'm sorry…" Those were the last words Alan ever said, laying on the bed, clutching his heart. His hands fell limp, his brow relaxed, and he stopped shaking with pain. Everything stopped. Eric didn't know what to do with himself. The attack had come out of nowhere, taking hold of Alan in the midmorning when they'd been laying in bed, talking lazily. And now...the light had left Alan's eyes. Left Eric's life.

Eric's eyes widened and his grip on Alan's limp hand tightened as he froze, feeling the man slowly growing cold. "Not yet," he whispered. "D-don't go yet, Alan… We've got things t'do, you and me. You've got t'look after that little garden o'yours, and make sure I get m'work in on time, and…" But that was over now. There would be no more lazy kisses in the morning, no more bright smiles in the hallways at the office, no more sweet words or touches.

It took a long time before he could move, reluctantly releasing Alan's cooling body and standing on legs that felt like they no longer belonged to him. Crossing to the phone, he dialed the office and left a short message. "Alan's dead. I'm not comin' in for a while," he said curtly, knowing that William would understand, strict as he was. There was just the one thing left to do.

His scythe was standing in one corner of the room - he couldn't even look at the one next to it. Eric bent to pick it up, feeling no comfort from the familiar weight, and paused, staring at it. Maybe…But no. With a sigh, he returned to the bed, sitting on it next to Alan. The tear tracks had dried on his face, and he looked more peaceful than he had in months; no more pain, no more worry. At least there was that. Gently, Eric took his hand again, carefully drawing his scythe across Alan's palm.

Only when the cinematic record played, showing their memories together and all the bright moments of Eric's life, did he allow the tears to fall.


	20. My Inspiration

"That's pretty."

Alan just about leapt off the piano bench when Eric's arms came around his shoulders from behind, pulling him back into the blonde's chest. "Ah?" he asked faintly, tilting his head up to nuzzle into Eric's neck, smiling. "It's nothing much. I've just been working on it because it doesn't want to leave my head, the stubborn thing. A bit like someone I know…" Alan punctuated the last sentence with a quick kiss, smiling at Eric's raised eyebrow. The blonde was sweet, if thick at times.

"Y'know what it reminds me of?" Eric asked suddenly, sliding onto the bench next to Alan and watching him play, hands dancing across the ivory keys. When the brunette's only response was a curious expression, he continued, "Your garden. All th'little sounds comin' together t'make somethin' this nice. It's like each of your flowers all together." Eric looked away, down at Alan's hands again, slightly embarrassed by his uncharacteristic mush.

Alan's laugh brought those green eyes back around, looking questioning. The petite reaper took one hand off the piano to cup his partner's cheek and bring him in for a kiss, murmuring, "You daft thing. It's about you."

* * *

Sorry, it's been ages...


	21. Prompt Repeats

_This is a bit silly, but I accidentally rewrote two of the old prompts. Here ya go!_

* * *

**Judgement**

"Alan, honey," Grell purred, lounging across his desk - and paperwork, to Alan's dismay. "You really think he's going to mind? Eric Slingby? Darling, he's got the least right to judge you for your orientation. Well, least right of anyone but myself."  
"It's not that," Alan murmured, trying to ignore his reddening cheeks. "It's just… Embarrassing."  
Grell rolled her eyes, looking at him over the red rims of her glasses. "Sweetie. Really. When I say 'he won't mind', I mean he'll probably love it. That man's sexual preferences are 'yes please' and 'often'."  
"Y-you'd hardly know!" Alan exclaimed, looking scandalized.  
The redhead looked down at him coolly, a hint of a pointy grin beginning on her lips as she said sweetly, "Poor sweet Alan. You really think I wouldn't have inside information on Eric Slingby? I have my sources. Not that they're needed, really: the way that man tarts about? A little thing like this wouldn't deter him in the slightest."  
Alan was still wringing his hands in distress. "Are you certain? I mean, really certain."  
"My dearest naive boy." Grell's eyes glittered as they raked over Alan's blushing cheeks. "Being gay for your senior isn't the worst trouble you could get yourself into. No one would blame you for a moment. I mean, have you seen the size of that man's-?~"  
"Grell!"

* * *

**Opportunities**

Alan pursed his lips whenever he thought. And Eric loved it.

Whether it was a detail for a collection report or the name of a particular flower he was trying to remember, Alan's little pink lips puckered up ever so invitingly as he wracked his brains. Sometimes a crease appeared between his thin brows, and the expression became a positively adorable pout. Eric could have sat and watched Alan think for ages. That is, if he wasn't continually being told off for disrupting the brunette's train of thought.

"Eric, really. We've had this discussion, and I need to get this paper done."  
"Can't help it. You're practically puckerin' up, Al."  
"That doesn't mean you can just lean over and kiss me! It's distracting!"  
"Well, stop thinkin' so much then."  
"…I can hardly turn it off. I'm not you."  
"Ouch."  
"Oh, stop it. And let me finish this paper, then I'll pay you the proper attention. Needy man."  
"Y'love me."  
"Of course I do. …alright, one more kiss, but then I need to work! This report is due…. Monday? Tuesday? Hmm…"  
"Heh. You're doin' it again."  
"Stop that! I said one more!"


	22. Online

Eric had never been very good at modernizing. "I'll stick to m'records, thanks," was all he really had to say on the subject when Alan begged him to update his phone, or get any social media with which to share pictures, or even get 'a decent internet connection, Eric, I mean _really_'. For though their mortal charges were still stuck in the time of steam engines, the reaper realm had progressed; staying one step ahead allowed them to predict complications, and improve their own present with humanity's future. Even the deathscythes were becoming more mechanical, with Grell and Ronald updating their weapons as soon as the option made itself available.

Sadly, old dog, new tricks. Eric wouldn't budge. His trusty saw, printed books - _none o'that tablet nonsense_ - and ancient flip phone were there to stay. Texting him was an absolute nightmare.

{TEXT} Eric, when will you be home? I've got pasta on.

{TEXT} [Re:Eric,] dont know spears called lastminute meeting

{TEXT} An hour? Two hours?

{TEXT} [Re:An][Re:Eric,] probably 45 minutes maybe

{TEXT} ...Eric, your phone is doing that irritating thing again.

{TEXT} [Re:...Eric,][Re:An][Re:Eric,] what iritating thing

{TEXT} I am begging you. Hands and knees. Get a new phone.

{TEXT} [Re:I][Re:...Eric,][Re:An][Re:Eric,] (1/2) whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

{TEXT} [Re:I][Re:...Eric,][Re:An][Re:Eric,] yyyyyyy (2/2)

{TEXT} Picture messaging?

{TEXT} [Re:Picture][Re:I][Re:...Eric,][Re:An][Re:Eric,] ...listening

* * *

Very cheaty on the word count with this one. Eric's shit phone is loosely based on my old shit phone.


	23. Failure

Well, indirectly, he supposed that hell was the worst possible punishment that could've been given to him.

Eric lit a new cigarette with the stub of his old one, leaning against the cold stone wall; the new flame blazed up momentarily, matching Eric's own crimson eyes in the gloom. Rain fell around him, obscuring the surrounding streets with dreary grey, dripping from the overhang he was lounging beneath. He blew smoke. The few occupants of London that had braved the unseasonal rain scurried past without sparing him a look. The glowing tip of his cigarette held no one's attention, which suited him just fine. For once, Eric was not trying to be noticed. Rather the opposite.

Brushing a hand up through his blond bangs to bring them up and out of his luminous red eyes, he surveyed the street again. Promising enough. Slick cobblestones and dark skies were bound to cause some sort of accident soon. If not, he could hurry one along. He could imagine Spears' eyebrow twitching as that appeared on the 'To Die' list. Give the old bastard a bit of a turn, for nostalgia's sake. Who would be dispatched for that one?

_Hrm_. Not Alan, that was for sure. Glowering up at the sky, Eric stubbed out the new cigarette, a sour taste in his mouth. "Where'd you go, then, considerin'?" he muttered, still looking into the clouds with a scowl. "Nowhere I can pull y'out, no matter what I bloody do. Just like before, eh?" He gave a laugh that was more pain than mirth.

_Would it've been worth it if you'd managed it?_ A little voice was asking him from within his own head. He ignored it. Any hypotheticals didn't really matter, at this point. What's done was done. What he'd done hadn't worked, and he was now paying for it.

Shooting a last resentful look upwards, Eric ducked back into the alley, reflecting that - just maybe - the world would've been better off without him a whole lot sooner.

* * *

Demon Eric! Woohoo! Thanks to each and every reviewer, new and old. That's what keeps me writin'. ^^;


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